Two Lies, One Truth
by KeepCalmAndKeepWriting
Summary: Short drabble- Arthur and Eames reveal a little more about their pasts to each other bit by bit...


Hello again,

Just a little drabble that transpired from a rather lovely day-dream and my own slight obsession with what Arthur/Eames mornings in bed would be like...

Hope you like it :)

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It was the light that woke Eames the next morning, the thin white curtains doing little to block the rays of the rising sun. He glanced blearily at the bedside clock and huffed in annoyance. _6 o'clock in the bloody morning. _Still half-asleep, Eames groped blindly in the pillow headspace to the left of him, to where he knew Arthur's warm body would be- when his hand found only empty space, a sliver of uncontrollably panic shot down Eames' spine-

His eyes snapped open.

Arthur was sat on the edge of his side of the bed - his back to Eames. Not that Eames was complaining. It was a very lovely back. And although Eames was right, the room _was_ too bloody bright, it was a soft light- hazy and warm like an early-morning blanket. It cast slight shadows along the smooth contours of Arthur's back, his skin lit up in the pale glow.

Eames reached over, and, so lightly it was barely a touch at all, traced lazy patterns across Arthur's back with his finger-tips, feeling the hard muscles beneath the skin, skimming over his spine, caressing the faint scars. Arthur turned to face him, taking out his cigarette, the smoke furling around his wrist, a slow, painfully genuine smile spreading across his features.

It warmed Eames in a way the sun never could.

"Christ you're beautiful," he murmured, because it was true, and although most of the time he tried to censor these sorts of thoughts to an extent, Arthur simply _had_ to know-

Arthur chuckled, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment, just the way he always did-because after 4 years, he _still_ hadn't got used to being at the receiving end of such heart-felt compliments.

"Not sure that's the word I'd use," he said lightly, in lieu of an acceptance or agreement, before twisting away from the edge of the bed, and sitting up against the head-board next to Eames.

Eames gave an exasperated sigh, "it's the _only_ word there is _to_ use. Handsome, gorgeous, sexy- why you may be all of those things, they're not enough sometimes."

Arthur felt heat rising in his cheeks, so scoffed and looked away, taking a long drag of his cigarette, savouring the sensation, before letting the smoke wisp out between barely parted lips.

Arthur had, at one point, been smoking, _needing_, up to 30 cigarettes a day. The moment Eames pointed out this fact, Arthur had stopped entirely, instantly, furious at the way he had allowed himself to become _dependent_ on something so trivial. He had needed to regain control of the situation _immediately_.

But nicotine, as Eames had told him gently, didn't like it when people just quit on it.

The withdrawal symptoms had been awful, even with the patches- sweating head-aches, stomach cramps, and a persistent shake in his left hand that Arthur _hated._ In the end, he had conceded to cut down the slow way. One day at a time.

There had also been a stage when he had smoked only once a day, early in the morning- and this was what he did now, though the decision was out of choice, not necessity.

Eames didn't mind.

Though he would never say, Arthur was undeniably sexy with a cigarette between his lips.

"Did you know," Eames started, going for casual, but the playfulness in his tone making Arthur turn to raise an eyebrow, "that I was expelled from various schools around the South-East of my poor country no fewer than four times?"

"Lie," Arthur prompted immediately, grinning. They did this sometimes, because heart-to-heart conversations were not really either of their thing, and Arthur's first declaration of love had only come about through a goddamned game of 'Two Lies and One Truth'. It was a laugh most of the time, and a perfect excuse to reveal a little more about their pasts to each other- bit by bit.

"You were expelled five times if we are counting Day-care," Arthur shook his head, smiling, thanks to numerous background checks, he normally knew Eames' lies straight away, "I swear until I met you I didn't think that was even possible."

"For a start," Eames huffed, "it was a _nursery_, Jesus, my mother would have rather _died_ than send me anywhere run by Americans- and, in my defence, can you really expect any sane 5 year old to stay in a place run by Hitler's doppelgänger in female form?" He frowned, expression completely sincere, "I swear that woman must have been some kind of ex-prison warden."

"Eames," Arthur sighed, "you persuaded half of the kids to join you in a revolt, established a fort in the sand-pit, armed yourself with building blocks as grenades, and set fucking _live_ booby-traps which somehow incorporated paper scissors. To be quite honest I'm not sure I blame them."

Eames glared at him in mock offense.

Arthur shrugged, grinning, "I can only feel for your poor mother."

Eames continued to glare.

"Next one," Arthur prompted.

"My first tattoo was aged 14," he said with a sigh, as though it pained him to concede to Arthur's demands.

"Lie," Arthur shot back at once, "you were 18- your brother would have murdered you on the spot if you'd got one any earlier."

Eames nodded, approving, "I'm glad you appear to listen to me _some_ of the time Arthur- and yes, he was an over-protective idiot at the best of times." But his voice was too fond for the insult to be heart-felt.

"At least you had one," Arthur replied, and nudged Eames in the ribs. "Come on then, out with some truths."

Eames paused, expression suddenly serious, considering.

Then-

"I was not always a homosexual," he said, quietly.

Arthur was gripped by a sudden, completely irrational desire to _laugh_, because Eames, _Eames_ was most _definitely_ _gay_-

As it was he simply raised an eyebrow.

"Formally," Eames continued, his voice still sincere, "I would have been considered bisexual."

Arthur stared. Not that this surprised (somehow he guess he had always known) or bothered him in the least, he _was_ intrigued as to why it had never come to light before. Something must had shown on his face because Eames coughed a little self-consciously and said-

"Her name was Nadia," he started, speaking the name with some kind of soft reverence, "She was the kindest and most honest person I had ever met. We were together for 4 months- back when I just started dream-sharing, before she was killed in a car accident. Hit and run. It was the closest I'd got to love, I suppose, and... well, after that I couldn't look at women in the same way," his voice was quiet, and his eyes cast down and Arthur was hit with the realisation of just _how much _this _hurt_ Eames to talk about.

It hurt him too.

He reached out a hand to Eames' shoulder, racking his brains for something to say that would be appropriate, and sensitive-

"..Eames, I'm so sorry-"

"S'not your fault you idiot," Eames said at once, glancing up to give him a half-hearted smile, "well, it is actually, thanks to Yours Truly I am now strictly monosexual, if there is such a thing."

And Arthur smiled, because here was Eames, doing something Eames couldn't help but do, and making a joke out of a situation that was too painfully personal for him.

"I could even," Eames continued jovially, returning back to his normal-self, "be considered an Arthex- Arsexu- _Arthexual_, good Lord that's tricky to say, seeing as no-one else even comes close to having as nice an arse as yours."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot."

"Well, that's a blatant lie if I ever heard one," Eames said, grinning.

Arthur sighed, "I didn't mean- Christ, you are incorrigible."

"Lies, lies, lies," Eames sang.

"The first person I killed outside of a dream was a lover."

Eames did a double-take.

Arthur gave a sad, half-smile, "Ex-lover by the time it got to the killing part, I'll admit, but we had been living together for a year up until then."

"Jesus," Eames muttered, "how did it happen?"

"I met him when I was 17," Arthur said, a little wistfully, "I thought the world of him, fell over myself to trust him, to love him. Dream-sharing still scared me and I was desperate for some constant, some safe-guard. I was stupid- blinded by the desperate belief I had found '_True Love'_, that I was loved back," the self-disgust creeping into Arthur's cold voice made Eames' stomach curl painfully.

This certainly explained Arthur's tendency to instinctively trust no-one, until proven otherwise, but Eames had never imagined it stemmed from such a hurtful, _personal_ incident such as this, that Eames could already tell, ended in a much worse manner than his own-

"Love-"he started, reaching out to turn Arthur's face towards him, to smooth away the tightness in Arthur's jaw.

"He tried to sell me out to some shady extractor group in the Middle East. They paid a high-price for fresh young talent, and then enlisted them as...well- basically as slaves. The illegal side of an already illegal business," Arthur's laugh was harsh and devoid of feeling, "I found out, challenged him, we got into a fight, and in the end- I guess you could call it self-defence. Still. I murdered him."

"As I would have done if I'd been in your position," Eames assured him firmly. On a whim, he slid a hand beneath the sheets and spread his palm, warm and comforting, where he knew the jagged scar That Had Never Been Discussed was- just below Arthur's left hip.

Arthur visibly flinched.

Eames sighed, pained, and pressed a kiss against Arthur's ribs. So that was the story behind the Unspeakable Scar. Well, he had always known it wouldn't be pleasant.

Arthur cracked a sudden smile, eyes a little too bright, looking down at Eames.

"God, we really are pathetic aren't we?"

Eames frowned, sitting up and taking in Arthur's lovely face, his mussed-up hair, "I'm not sure that's is the word I would use," he said seriously, quoting Arthur back at him. "Traumatised, perhaps."

Arthur paused, before nodding slightly in agreement, and turning to settle in Eames' arms, his back against Eames' chest.

Eames tightened his hold around Arthur, closing his eyes, silently willing for Arthur to get the message-

_I would never leave you, I would never hurt you, I would __**never**__ betray you, and I would kill that bastard right now if he was still alive because of what he did-_

"I know," Arthur murmured softly, "I know."

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(asdfghjkl what is it with me and angst? Review if you love me ;)


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